(No deadline about calling the Concord Bookshop. Though plan accordingly if you have gift-giving schedules to observe.) BUT NOW A CHANGE OF PACE. This morning, driving one son to the bus stop, with the younger son in the back seat for a dentist appointment scheduled for soon thereafter, I realized (and said) that in all my life, I think I had never before driven my two teenage sons around town together. Not without other passengers. They grunted (to prove a point about their age and station, perhaps). How much we are given that seemed, for so long, so entirely impossible. As it happens, and it seems to fit the modest thrill noted above, Ann Fitch sent me this poem of Rilkes last night. Id never read it before. I love it. The translator is not named. God Speaks to Each of Us God speaks to each of us before we are, Before hes formed us--then, in cloudy speech, But only then, he speaks these words to each And silently walks with us from the dark: Driven by your senses, dare To the edge of longing. Grow Like a fires shadowcasting glare Behind assembled things, so you can spread Their shapes on me as clothes. Dont leave me bare. Let it all happen to you: beauty and dread. Simply go--no feeling is too much-- And only this way can we stay in touch. Near here is the land That they call Life. Youll know when you arrive By how real it is. Give me your hand.
Posted on: Mon, 27 Oct 2014 13:40:02 +0000
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